


standard procedure

by P38 (XKR)



Category: Adventures of the Galaxy Rangers
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:04:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5237138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XKR/pseuds/P38
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Goose and Doc go to retrieve a missing ship and its pilot. There's a change going on within BETA, within the team, within its youngest member—and it can't be ignored now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	standard procedure

Shane Gooseman narrowed his eyes, shifted his weight to his other hip, and crossed his arms. "So," he began. "We're going to go play needle-in-the-haystack in the Empty Zone with a ship you can't even tell us about. That's the gist of it, commander?"

"That's correct," Commander Walsh answered, nodding.

At his side, Walter Hartford groaned in exasperation, while Goose just shrugged. "All right, then. I gotta say, I'm rather hurt that Q-Ball's been holding out on me. What, I'm suddenly not good enough to try out this mystery ship?" Feeling two pointed stares directed at him, the supertrooper grinned, and raised his hands in defeat. "Right, I know, I know. Well, let's get to it."

"Oh, but there's just one, teensy little detail," Walter interjected, giving Goose reason to pause as he had already turned to leave Walsh's office. "What about the pilot?"

"We... unfortunately do not have high hopes that the pilot survived." Walsh cast his eyes down, and the hair on the back of Goose's neck rose. He couldn't imagine the burden that came with being the head of BETA, and Walsh's load was heavy enough just from the project that spawned the supertrooper. It was never a good sign when the older man took on that tone. "But if you are able to, please, retrieve Ranger Finch. Good luck, rangers."

And there it was. The tips of his fingers went cold. Swallowing back the icy lump of dread in his throat, Goose stormed out of the office. The image he must have made didn't escape him, clad in black and gray as he was, and try as he might to compose himself, he couldn't keep the urgency out of his long strides.

Behind him, he heard Walter break into a jog to catch up to him. "Hey, slow down there! What's got you in such a tizzy all of a sudden?"

"We've got a missing pilot, Doc. No time to dither around."

"Our orders," Walter said carefully, "are to retrieve this prototype ship."

"She's still out there."

Hearing Walter sigh, Goose didn't have to glance over to see the gears turning in the older ranger's head. "Ranger Finch, Ranger Finch... Ah, that was the lovely lady who was with us at—"

"Entropy's Edge, yeah."

Of course that mission was impossible to forget. Funny how this time, the whole 'going to rescue Samantha' thing wouldn't be a split second decision. Back then, just before ordering ELMA to take the shot, Goose had wondered if she would resent him for completing a job he didn't think her capable of performing. Then he was hurtling through space and utter oblivion, and the rest of that incident he recalled only in flashes. There had been pain on an astronomical level as his implant fought to keep his mind and body intact, voices calling for him—Annie's concerned visage, then Walter's. And now he could picture Sam's face, those impeccable brows set into a stubborn frown and round cheeks off-setting her stern demeanor as she insisted she was fine, and had everything under control.

As usual, Goose sprawled against the seat of the shuttle on the way to the launch bay, bouncing his knees and avoiding Walter's gaze. Across from him, the older ranger kept glancing up at him, concern evident in his deep brown eyes. But he kept silent, and continued to look over his pad. _Ranger One_ was fitted with the carrier pod, just in case they couldn't get the fighter ship flying and had to tow it back. As Commander Walsh had briefed them, five days ago, a prototype Interceptor was on a test flight when it had a malfunction and fell off the grid in the Empty Zone. Despite search parties being sent out, due to the nature of the craft, they hadn't been able to get a fix on the situation or even its probable location until a few hours ago, when an encrypted distress call managed to make its way to BETA mountain.

Samantha may have been among the youngest rangers enlisted, along with himself, but she was capable. Goose had seen it first hand the few times she had been in a squadron under his command, and it was precisely the reason why he gave the recommendation for her to be the final team leader for the mission at Entropy's Edge. A test flight should have been no problem for her, judging from the accolades she had accumulated in the Academy.

Tension permeated the cabin of _Ranger One_ all during the jump and flight to the sector where the distress call had come from. For a while, Goose forgot Walter was with him. Instead, he could see Sam's silhouette before him, framed by the lights of the console and the stars beyond, and not as some faceless body floating in the Empty Zone.

"Goose." He blinked, breaking away from his phantom to glance over at Walter. The other man's brow creased in worry. "You're starting to freak me out a little. This isn't the first time we've done a mission like this, but you're acting mighty concerned."

"Concerned?" He snorted. "You know as well as I do that this whole thing reeks of bullshit." Walter's eyes widened, but Goose just kept going. "Since when are we body collectors? If the mission was so bad that they have to send in the Series 5 to clean up, then there was no reason for a Series 3 to be sent out in the first place. She's practically still a cadet."

"That part I understand," Walter said with the slow kind of patience that made Goose want to explode. "I know how you get when someone is in danger. But I've never seen you take it so personally."

"Who says I'm taking it personally?"

"You've been vibrating like a teakettle ever since we got her name."

"And you must be seeing things." Goose lifted a shoulder, ignored the huff from Walter's end. "What have you got?"

"Mmhm." He wanted an answer, not the hum that meant this talk wasn't over. Regardless, Walter's attention returned to this screen's display. "I was able to pinpoint the signal. It's odd, though. There are no reports of any special activity from this sector, and none in the vicinity. There's no particular reason why we shouldn't have been able to find her sooner."

"Unless she didn't want to be found," Goose finished for him. He found himself gripping the controls. "Just what the hell happened?"

"We'll find out soon enough." Even Walter's tone had taken on a grim edge. Any other time, Goose would have said he and Doc were all the team they needed. But if they had Zachary leading the mission, or Niko's clairvoyance, maybe he wouldn't have felt like ripping out of his skin. "I've got the coordinates for the ship," said Walter. "Prepare for landing."

They homed in on a region that appeared temperate, comparable to the homestead areas on planets like Ozark or Granna. This one wasn't registered with the league, however, so there was no telling what would await them on the ground. Worst case scenario, the ship was a trap. Sam could have been taken by outlaws, or the Crown, and this was all a ploy to capture more rangers. More prizes for the Queen and all.

  
_"Picking up movement on the missing Interceptor,"_ ELMA announced. Both men's heads snapped to the display the A.I. brought up.

Goose held his breath; Walter exhaled, "What have we got here..."

The screen showed a zoomed-in view of the missing Interceptor, which hadn't been moved from where it had crashed out on a field, judging by the length of the furrow it laid in. But besides being banged up a little, the ship appeared to be in working condition. The activity ELMA noted was a figure on one of the wings; one that was humanoid... human. Goose was able to to put the pieces together before the screen's resolution caught up with him. Dark hair, dark skin, and when she finally noticed the ship and turned her face skywards...

He exhaled, sinking back in his seat. "That's her," he confirmed, and grinned a moment later. All the tension and heaviness that settled on his chest dissipated. "Can't keep a good pilot down."

Walter whooped in triumph. "That's one plus for this mission. I'll tell command that she's safe. Let's go grab her and see what's up."

As _Ranger One_ made its descent, Goose called out the landing procedure, but his eyes kept flicking between the controls and Samantha's figure. She was definitely not in her uniform, and was currently doing her best to keep a horse from running away from the approaching aircraft; presumably, the one she rode out to the Interceptor's location. He hardly noticed he was leaning forward as much as his harness would allow, heels drumming as he continued to go through the landing motions.

Walter did, and he chuckled. "Relax, my Goose man, we got her. At least we know she's up and about, and appearing none the worse for wear."

"Hey, I'm just fine." Goose's fingers danced on the controls; he lifted that hand in a flippant gesture. "I'm just eager to get on with this, and get my hands on that super-secret ship."

"Right." Walter gave a half smirk, shaking his head. "Whatever you say."

Once they landed, Goose tore out of his seat and hurried to gather whatever tools he might need for repairs—and a spare uniform for Sam, while he was at it. Walter unloaded the horses, seeing as they may need to tow the Interceptor, and after a brief exchange of "Hurry it up!" and "Hold your cyber-horses!", they rode out to meet the missing pilot.

  
_"_ _My sensors are indicating an elevated heart rate."_  Triton chimed. There was more of a bounce to his trot than Voyager's, and already he was moving into a canter.  _"Shall I pick up the pace, Goose?"_  


"Sure thing, partner." Goose grinned, and ignored Walter's plea to _wait just this once you hot shot_ as Triton took off in a galloping sprint towards their destination.

The first time he saw Ranger Samantha Finch, his first thought was _'Hot damn, we can hold off any alien invasion with those killer curves'_. She made for no less a striking, if short, figure now, but any preconceived harshness was subdued. Free of the compressing nature of their uniform, she was instead clad in a rumpled flannel shirt with sleeves rolled to her elbows, freshly cut denim shorts and worn boots. Goose dimly recalled that her family hailed from Texas; maybe that explained why she looked so natural in this environment. This was perhaps his first glimpse of the true Samantha, outside of the confines of duty. She was even devoid of the bright accents of make-up that usually adorned her dark eyes and full lips.

Triton skidded to a stop some two dozen feet ahead of her, leaving Goose to swing from the saddle and jog the remaining distance between them. Her bobbed hair rustled in the wind, and she finger-combed at the swaying strands. Sunlight bounced off her round cheeks and highlighted the gold undertones of her skin. Despite the circumstances, she was serene, appearing weary yet relieved and unharmed.

When Goose dragged his gaze up, he found she was looking him over, too. With his hat and black uniform, and her not having his enhanced sight, she probably didn't recognize him until he came close. It may have been why she stood a bit too near. Or maybe Goose was the one who stopped too close.

At length, he grinned, setting a hand on his hip. "Hey."

"Hey." Sam returned the smile, and it reached her eyes, and such a naked gesture left him speechless. She glanced down, tugged at the hem of her shirt. "Is it that weird?"

"No." His voice, even in his usual softness, was rough. Goose swallowed before continuing. "It's fine. You're—you look great."

"For a dead person." The mirth that curved her lips didn't reach her eyes this time, and Goose's own smile faltered a bit. In that moment, they weren't in a field with the noon sun beating down on them, but back at base, after Goose had stabilized. After the funeral service. The black clinging to Sam had been in more than her dress and he could see that dark veil closing in on her again.

"Hey, now, Sam..." He reached out, fingers brushing the strands of hair that hung over her temple.

She shook her head away from his hand. "I'm fine, Shane," she insisted, her voice low.

" _Ahem_ ," Walter interrupted as he joined the pair. Goose stepped back a pace and Sam snapped to attention for the older ranger, who just lifted his hand. "At ease. Ranger Hartford, at your service. And Ranger Gooseman, as you... already know. How are you, Ranger Finch?"

"Sir." Sam began to go into parade rest, thought better of it, and folded her hands in front of her instead. Goose tore himself away from staring to go investigate the Interceptor, leaping up onto it. "I'm well, sir."

"Good, good. So what happened here?"

"I was doing an interstellar test flight on this Interceptor when I ran into some hostile units. During the ensuing the battle, the best course of action recommended was to take refuge on this unregistered planet." Keeping an ear on the conversation, Goose gave a quiet command to ELMA to see if it could talk to the ship's A.I. itself while he poked around the sleek—and unusual—controls. ELMA couldn't get a response, and he frowned at the flashing lights that told him nothing. "It took me three days to get a distress signal to go through, and I'm unsure of when it reached headquarters."

"... That's it?" Walter's skepticism was warranted. As was Goose's, as he tried to assess the damage and see if he could sift through the records. "Where did that recommendation come from? Who did you encounter, and what happened to them?"

"I... Sir." During the pregnant pause, Goose stood up and looked down to see Sam's back had gone rigid. "I'm not at liberty to say."

He raised a brow, and exchanged a look with Walter, who was just as bewildered. Goose lifted his hands in a shrug. "I've got nothin' up here, Doc. Ship's on auxiliary power and won't boot up any further, and ELMA can't do anything."

"And thus the plot thickens," Walter sighed. "Well, Ranger Finch? I don't supposed you can tell us anything about this ship?"

"I'm sorry." She shifted in place, head inclining downwards. "I can't say."

"Is that so." Shaking his head, Walter tapped his badge, pulled out his CDU, and summoned two sparks of light. "Well, if you can't talk, then I'll just have to take a look around. Lifeline, be a dear and check up on Miss Finch's condition. Searchlight, see what you can find out about our little ghost ship here."

_"Right-O, Doc!"_

As the tweakers flitted about and went to work, Goose vaulted down and went to stand by Sam. She eyed the ball of light circling her, and he wrapped an arm around her stiff shoulders. "First time seeing Doc's implant at work, huh? Don't worry. It tingles a bit, but it's harmless."

"What Gooseman is failing to tell you is that last time, he tried to  _eat_  Lifeline." He had been preoccupied with the short, curled hairs at Sam's nape, but snapped his head up to growl at Walter, who just laughed. "Fear not, my lady," the older ranger assured, his attention returning to Sam. "Secret projects and conspiracies aside, we're glad to see that you're well, and we'll have your ship up and flying in no time."

" _Vitals are all good, Doc, nothing to report here!"_  Lifeline chirped. It returned to its programmer and zoomed around his head a few times before flying back into the CDU.

"Thank you." Sam bowed her head, her hair obscuring her eyes, and the crease in Goose's brow deepened. Ask anyone else and even Sam herself, and they'd describe her as a hardass. She could be somewhat rigid and downright stubborn when it came to getting missions done, to the point of alienating comrades. Goose knew his view of her would be forever colored by starlight and sighs, and that beneath the military countenance she struggled to uphold, she was a little awkward but eager, full of wonder. Nothing all that hard about her.

Regardless of whatever face she chose to show, this wasn't like her. Professional, he could buy, but this? Being all defensive and curt—distracted, like there was someone else besides the three of them. It wasn't right, and his fingers tightened on her shoulder, not even listening to whatever she was discussing with Walter due to the annoyed, restless buzzing in his head.

Any other day, any other place, he would be cracking jokes, crumbling her attempts at seriousness. Or he'd have simply scooped her up to bury his face in her neck. Now wasn't the time. They had a job to do and he couldn't afford the distraction of her unusual behavior and her sun-kissed skin right now, especially in front of Walter. But it didn't stop the myriad of questions, and how he was thrumming with anxiety because this wasn't something that could be solved with words. It wasn't like Commander Walsh to give up on recruits, especially the younger ones—so why now? How long had all of this been going on and how was it not under the Series 5 jurisdiction? Why did Sam seem to know almost as little as them? Why couldn't she talk to him about it? What was the deal with that ship, and why did she smell so good, why was she dressed like that, why—

"Why are you all wet?" Goose blurted out. Sam and Walter both looked at him, startled from their conversation. Although Sam gained a familiar red tinge to her cheeks, glancing down at the front of her outfit which, indeed, had been damp this whole time.

"Oh,  _yeeeah_." Walter gripped his chin, his eyes drifting somewhere behind the two younger rangers. "Just  _what_  were you doing out here, Samantha?"

"That's... I was..." He felt Sam shift her weight, and almost dropped his hand to her hip, but finally just pulled away from her completely. "Washing the ship, sir."

All at once, his racing thoughts came to a screeching halt. Goose blinked. "You were doing  _what_?"

Sam turned around, and the blonde followed her gaze. It led to a large pail filled with soapy water, a rag, and a pair of gloves thrown over the rim, which Sam indicated weakly. "Well," she continued, "I didn't have much else to do while I was stuck here, so..."

"Invoking the classic look, I see." Walter hummed, impressed.

Goose just looked between the two. Sam smiled, and Walter grinned back at her, but the supertrooper snapped. "The hell are you two on about? What's classic about washing a ship? I know this is a low tech planet and all, but it seems like a giant waste of time. You really couldn't find a pressure washer on this hunk of dirt? And did you have to wear— _that_?"

Silence followed. Nostrils flaring and eyes widening minutely, Sam looked to Walter, who just shrugged at her.

"Don't mind him. I'm still educating the Goose on the finer aspects of etiquette and  _tact_."

"Shove it, Doc, I want some answers!"

  
_"Doc!"_  Searchlight exclaimed from above.  _"I can't find nothin', Doc, I'm getting denied access on everything from diagnostics down to this ship's A.I.! I had to fight just to turn it on!"_  


Both men looked at Sam, who squared her shoulders. Goose's hands twitched, so he crossed his arms. "I'll see what I can do," she said, "but you may encounter firewalls and such. It's highly guarded, so be careful. Programming isn't my field, and I don't know how it works. I just..." Her gaze dropped, and she said more to herself, "I just fly it."

"It's all right, Samantha." Walter moved closer to the ship, his smile gentle and confident. "You've done all you can. Just leave the rest to us."

Sam nodded, and turned to address the cockpit. "CP-195, initiate."

There was a distinct whirring as the systems booted up, and the Interceptor finally came to life.  _"Initiated. Greetings, Pilot S."_  


How... impersonal. Even the standard A.I. in fighters generally referred to pilots by name. Goose noticed Walter's frown as he continued making notes. He didn't look any more pleased himself.

Sam gazed into the distance. She happened to glance over and catch Goose's eye, and gave him a worn smile. "It only responds to me. I can't do much else with it, though."

"It wouldn't be fun if it were easy," Walter sighed, then clapped his hands together. "All righty then, the doctor will require complete silence while he operates. You two can give me some space and mosey on outta here for the moment. Goose, I'll holler if I have need of your muscle. Samantha, I assume your suit and more are elsewhere?"

"Ah, yeah, the farmhouse." Suddenly looking bashful, Sam went to collect her questionable cleaning supplies. "I'll go get them."

Goose was admiring the clean cuts and unraveling threads on the hems of Sam's shorts when Walter loudly cleared his throat. He gave the older ranger his attention, met his flat stare, and shot him a look of  _What gives?_  


"Don't give me that, mister." Walter pointed at him, and went on before the supertrooper could get in a word. "Be a gentle-Goose and escort her, won't you? And maybe see what else you can find?"

That tone made him bristle. Goose pretended Walter just meant to crack whatever codes kept them from learning about the ship, and gestured in defeat. "Suit yourself. I'll double-check for repairs when we get back."

As he swung up onto Triton, Sam walked up on her own horse. His green gaze traveled the length of her leg, from boots to knee to bared-thigh. She couldn't have been comfortable riding like that, and ought to change. Their eyes met, and she tried not to smile, shaking her head. The usual way she'd say  _Stop that_ , like whenever she caught his stare from across the cafeteria.

Goose tipped his hat at her. "Lead the way, little lady."

The house wasn't far, according to Sam; just on the other side of the field and over a hill. A concerned homeowner found her after the crash, and she and her husband had taken her in. Said her accident was the liveliest thing to happen to them since their daughter eloped with a rowdy deputy a few counties away.

"But not too lively. I haven't noticed any passing ships, so I don't think anyone else noticed me landing here. It's probably why..."

"Sam," Goose prompted. But she only shook her head.

"I'm sorry. I can't talk about it." She kept her eyes straight ahead, so Goose studied her profile instead. "I don't know what Ranger Hartford will be able to extract, or what command has told you, but I still..."

"It's fine." Goose sighed. At least she was opening up. "The commander wasn't keen on giving us any details either, and none of this is your fault. I'm just glad you're all right." And he meant it in all sincerity.

Sam turned her head away from him. Before she urged her horse into a gallop, Goose was able to catch her whispered  _thanks._  


The rest of the ride went in silence, with Triton easily keeping up with Sam's organic mount. Hilly farmland stretched all around them as far as he could see, and made for a peaceful landscape, if rather repetitive. Enough to make anyone restless, even someone military-born like Sam. The farmhouse soon came into view; a humble thing, even by frontier standards. Goose scoped out the exterior while Sam dismounted, hung up her cleaning supplies, and let her horse back into a nearby corral.

"Anything suspicious, Triton?"

_"Negative. I'm not picking up any humanoid lifeforms, only livestock. There are also no signs of any active electronics that pose a threat."_

"Mrs. Aberdeen?" Sam called out as she approached the front door, knocked, and called out again. "Mrs. Aberdeen!" No reply. "She may have gone to the main house," she tossed over her shoulder at Goose. "You can come in. The room I borrowed is in the back."

"Stay here," Goose ordered, and patted his cybersteed's neck before he climbed down from the saddle.

_"It's not like I have much of a choice. This planet rather lacks for scenery."_

"Easy, old friend." Shaking his head and smiling faintly, Goose made sure to retrieve the spare uniform before following Sam inside.

The interior of the house was just as humble as the outside. And rather cramped, too, especially for someone of Goose's height. Floorboards creaked beneath his boots, and the dated technology he could see from the kitchen and side rooms was of the standard kind that came with new settlements—from a few decades ago. He would have to make sure to include that in his report, should Walsh want to send a representative here. See if they could get this star to join the League of Planets and all that.

Sam led to a back room that was, in a word: girly. White and wooden furniture, a huge, floral comforter with lace trim and matching pillows on the bed, a bull's skull hanging above the head of said bed—the works. Just as she had mentioned, it didn't appear as though this room had much use recently until the she borrowed it, and her scent filled the place. Her flight suit hung on a wall, and the helmet in a chair by it. Sam, meanwhile, busied herself around the room, straightening it up and putting away clothes. Her gadgets were already stacked on the vanity, along with her blaster.

Worry guided her movements and restless hands, and kept her back to Goose.

He settled against the door frame, his bulk just about taking up the entirety of it. "I brought you a uniform."

"Ah, thanks." Sam had been fussing with the same shirt for nearly minute; she finally unfolded it, smoothed out the wrinkles, and hung it up. "Just set it down, I'll get it in a moment."

She may as well be talking to air, and Goose exhaled gruffly. He removed his hat and hung it on the door knob. The uniform got set on the dresser. Yes, he was on a mission, and he should be professional here, but he pushed that aside because he couldn't ignore the slow burn in his gut and the agitation making his fingertips tingle. It only took two steps for him to be able to reach out and catch her wrist. Sam turned towards him, and he closed the remaining distance between them by pulling her close, leaning down, and covering her mouth with his own.

It hardly took any time before she sank against him, plush lips becoming pliant and parting for his. Good. He thought he may have been going too far, because this wasn't part of their agreement. Turmoil was a given when it came to being rangers and the currents between them were especially turbulent. It was easier to ignore that when wrapped up in each others bodies, and it was the only action he could think of taking, believing it would once again serve as a remedy to her ache. No secrets, no hiding, no need to retreat behind that dark curtain she put up after that day at the edge of the universe. He still didn't know how to go about this kind of comfort gracefully. Kissing was usually a good start.

When he pulled away, Sam sighed shakily. Her lashes fluttered but her eyes lowered to her hands that had come up to splay on his chest, toying with the buttons there. "Shouldn't do that while you're in uniform," she muttered, and paused. "Does this even count as a uniform?"

"Who knows?" Goose shrugged, hands settling on her waist, a gentle smile directed at her crown.

"It's... nice." Sam blushed. Much better. Maybe he hadn't gone far enough and should have been more tender with her sooner.

"You don't look so bad yourself," he countered. Unable to resist any longer, he reached down to pinch her butt, right below those terribly short shorts.

To which Sam jumped. "You've been waiting to do that!"

"How could I not? I admire how well you've blended in with the locals." She just scoffed, and he ran a hand down her arm. "Relax, babe. We don't know what happened, but I understand why you can't tell us. It's all right. Everything's gonna be fine."

"Mmhm." He wanted her eyes on him, not on his shirt. Since Goose wasn't having any of that, he bent to kiss her mouth once more. And then her flat button nose, under her ear, and on to her neck, and kept kissing and sucking there until Sam was squirming and giggling and lively again.

"Shane, stop!"

"Funny, you were never concerned about PDA any other time. But if you're so worried about that, we can get you back in uniform." He dragged a gloved finger down her sternum, tracing bare skin until he met cloth. "You're all wet anyway." Sam groaned and rolled her eyes, protesting that none of what he said made any sense, and Goose just chuckled as he began to undo the buttons of her shirt. It was a wonder none had popped, with the way her ample bust strained against the material. And she wore nothing beneath it. Green eyes raised to Sam's amber, and a blonde brow lifted.

She returned his gaze, deadpan. "Next time you're stuck on a frontier planet, _you_ ask to borrow someone's bra."

"Duly noted." He wasn't going to argue or complain in the slightest. Her peaked nipples were evident underneath the plaid, and after all the buttons were undone, the way the cloth draped off her breasts had his blood stirring. He hummed his appreciation. "Very nice."

"I had no idea you found low tech fashion so exciting." She bit her lip as his hands came to rest on her bare waist, thumbs brushing along her rib cage. Even through his gloves, her body heat was palpable. Her palms rubbed up his arms. "Shane..."

"Bad time?" Tempting as it was, he had no real intention of arousing her. Their encounters were generally at inopportune times and places, sure, sudden and fast and dirty—in a word, fun. And despite the fact that Walter had blatantly sent them off, Goose didn't want to keep him waiting too long. But he may have to wait regardless. Sam's scent was already washing over him and making him once again forget all about proper conduct. He could count this as part of his investigation into the heart of the matter; it would just stay off the record.

"Mrs. Aberdeen could be back at any moment," Sam murmured. Yet she grasped his wrist, moved his hand up under her shirt to cup her breast, and set his nerves alight.

She filled his hands so generously, something that he wouldn't tire of anytime soon. He kneaded her and gently pinched her nipples, ever mindful of the nagging tug of door wide open behind him, and how they were fully visible from the length of the hall. But as he nosed aside her short hair to skim his lips over the shell of her ear, a small whimper loosed from Sam's throat, and after that, nothing else mattered. She offered her throat to him and Goose kissed down the length of it, and had to pull her up against him so he could get to her wonderful tits.

Sam laughed, lightly kicking her feet as she was hoisted off the floor, wrapping her arms and legs around him. He chuckled against her skin as he closed the remaining distance to the bed and deposited her there, taking a moment to rub his face in her divine valley before glancing up to give her a wolfish grin.

Seeing the delight in her eyes already made this latest infraction worth it, and he rolled his hips against her once, twice, before deliberately kissing down her soft stomach. His hands coursed down her waist and settled on her hips as his lips met denim, and he tugged the hem on her shorts with his teeth, snarling playfully. He also tugged Sam to the edge of the bed so he could kneel on the floor, slide his palms along her thighs, then gently push her knees open as she sat up.

Green eyes flicked up to catch hers, and even though she once told him not to describe her in terms of food, no matter how 'sweet' she may be—eerily echoing something Walter told him once—the imagery came to Goose nonetheless. Sam's eyes were molten like caramel as she looked down on him, and there were words on her parted lips. _We shouldn't be doing this_ , probably.

Goose kissed her inner thigh. "Yeah, I know," he answered, without needing her to say it. "Want me to stop?" he asked, even as he began a trail of wet kisses towards the juncture of her thighs.

Sam licked her bottom lip, ran her fingers over his scalp, and gripped the hair at his crown. "No."

He undid the button of her shorts. Long fingers hooked into both the denim and her underwear, and he began to tug both down. "What do you want?"

"All of it."

As though he would give her any less. Goose didn't bother taking off her boots, simply pulling her garments past them. Once those were off, Sam closed her legs, and he nuzzled between her thighs. "Let me see, baby," he urged, hot breath washing over her skin. She parted her thighs for him, and he inhaled deeply. The sight of her glistening and wanting made his pulse pound in his ears, made him almost forget to listen for anyone approaching the house. "Good girl."

Of course she was soaked, and with no preamble he licked the length of her, coating his tongue, hearing her breath catch on a moan. The taste of her was still new to him, and had him growling and groaning softly from the veritable explosion on his palate. He grabbed her hips to pull her closer, felt the weight of her thighs settling over his shoulders, and pressed his mouth against her that much harder.

Recalling what he learned the first time he went down on her, he alternated between full strokes and teasing with just the tip of his tongue. Sam wasn't content to stay still, and Goose felt the muscles of her thighs flexing as she lifted her hips to ride his mouth. He had to hold her down to keep her still, let him do the work because she had done so much already. To reinforce that idea, he slid his tongue all along her inner folds and teased her clit with his teeth, just barely, making Sam curse above him.

If she was anything like him, she had probably been keyed up ever since they made eye contact. It was hard not to be at least a little turned on when around Sam, considering what their meetings generally consisted of—unless they had a job to do, and even then, the way things were between them now, that hardly slowed Goose down from sneaking in a taste. A kiss, a quick fuck—whatever. So long as it was enough to sate him for the time being and let him get back to being a galactic hero or whatever. Until the next time carnal urges won out over duty, anyway.

Considering how stressed out she had been, it didn't take long before Sam's sighing and keening increased in pitch, as did her grip on his hair. He felt the dip in the mattress as she fell back with a _thump_ , and her thighs clamped around his head as he sucked at her until she started trembling and gasped his name.

"That's right, let it out." Encouragement spilled out of him naturally, not knowing if Sam could hear him. Not caring either way. He lapped up her orgasm and turned his face to leave a wet kiss on her inner thigh, incitement making his own pulse flutter.

Sam groaned, breathless, her shivers subsiding and her legs relaxing back onto his shoulders. "I... I guess I needed that," she laughed, weak and boneless under his hands.

"You can say that again," sighed Goose, sounding much rougher than intended. He tried to content himself with stroking his hands down her thighs, but it wasn't enough. She'd said she wanted it all, didn't she? And right now, not even the Crown Army bursting into the house could stop him, mission be damned. He stood up slowly to look over Sam, to take in the sight of her laid out and flushed with that blouse barely clinging to her arms and her ample chest heaving.

He couldn't stop here. Not in a million years, not with her body beckoning him, not with him straining against his pants and aching to be buried in her.

Their eyes met and there went the veritable _snap_ of Goose's control. His hands were already working at his belt even as he bit back a growl and leaned over her so he could take her mouth again. Far from the tenderness earlier, this kiss was ravenous and wanting, and had him groaning at the brush of their tongues, and roughly pressing her body into the mattress with his own until he shifted his weight to one side.

Sam didn't seem to mind, as she tugged at this shoulders, his clothes, inviting him closer. Her hands rubbed along his neck and through his hair before they dropped between them, so that extra fingers could join his own at his belt, fumbling, unbuckling, pulling him out. He felt hotter, heavier in her hand, searing when he pushed inside her, and hissed at the sweet, slick heat that enveloped him. His spine bowed and his hips pressed close, to get as deep as he could in a just a few thrusts, and a shuddering groan loosed from him once he was seated fully inside her. Sam wrapped herself around him, exhaled against his ear, and held on.

His head bowed to her shoulder as panted, hushed nothings tumbled from his lips.  _It's all right, I got you, baby. I got you._  


His blasters were jostled by Sam's boots, heels digging into his legs. Hardly a discomfort, compared to the cushion of her body, her sublime thighs around his waist, the cradle of her hips. Her bottom lip flushed red under his kisses, as he kept coaxing out those little moans and half cries. They served as an accompaniment to the creaking bed that rocked under them, to his own gruff panting, to the thunder in his ears. He gasped a hoarse _Ah, fuck_ against her neck as desire strong as any solar flare coursed through him, making him grip her hips that much harder, angle them higher, to steel himself against the inevitable.

Rather difficult to do when Sam called his name like that. Her fingers slipped under his collar, ever searching for more skin, more contact, and fuck if he didn't want to rip off his shirt and everything else to give her that. _Soon_ , he promised, with teeth and tongue dragging over her racing pulse. The way he shivered and drove into her, one would think that Goose was the one who needed this release. One hand slipped around to the small of her back to prop her up, and the other he leaned on, grasping the covers for dear life as that slow fire slipped down his spine. He concentrated on each of Sam's vocalizations, the warmth that spread from where she touched him, the sway of her tits as they moved together—and what great tits they were, damn—and it was easy to forget why he had even been upset not too long ago.

That was the point of this, though, wasn't it? To just stop thinking about everything else except... _this._  


Ideally, he could go all day, but this was supposed to be fast. His rhythm broke into shallow thrusts which gave way to grinding, pressing as deep as he could, until Sam's back arched off the mattress and she gave a broken shout. She cinched around him so fiercely that Goose had to pause, so he rose up up to watch her, all arches and curves and mussed hair and lips curled with fulfillment. It was quite the sight, and nearly his undoing, to the point that once Sam was finished, she wasn't the only one nearly out of breath. He eased her back down on the bed, pulled out, and shaking in waves, leaned heavily on one forearm to wrap a fist around himself.

While he jerked himself to completion, Sam's fingers brushed over the head of his cock, teasing and tempting. His breath caught, and hazy, darkened green eyes watched the stark contrast of white that streamed and dotted her darker skin. With a last grunt, he sank down to lay at her side, having to close his eyes at the velvet blanket of satiety that enveloped him.

For a while he just lay there, the hot puffs of his breath hitting Sam's cheek. She didn't seem to mind, humming and writhing as she was, and seemed content to wait as he gathered himself.

"That was..." During the short pause, Sam's knuckles brushed his chin. She sighed, and tipped her face up to nuzzle his cheek. "Hot."

"Really?" She hummed in affirmation, and looking down her body, glistening with sweat and himself, Goose had to agree. He stroked a hand down her thigh, and brushed his lips under her ear. "First time we've made it to a bed."

"... Huh. It is, isn't it?" They shared a look. The light caught in her dark eyes to bring out the umber and gold, and he watched her smile; a moment later, laughter rang from the both of them. Sam pushed his hair back and kissed him and Goose very nearly melted into the mattress. The afternoon sun shone down on them and staying here for hours, warmed through and rolling around with her, seemed like a damned good idea.

But all too soon, she pulled away, and placed a hand on his chest when Goose tried to follow for another kiss. "I gotta use the bathroom."

"Ah, right." Of course. He took a deep breath, and the circumstances of this latest tryst came back to him. He was on a frontier planet, helping to retrieve the very lovely Ranger Finch and some prototype Interceptor that had crashed. He was with teammate Ranger Hartford, who was probably long done with repairs and impatiently waiting for their return. Nothing in the mission statement said to fool around with Ranger Finch in some rancher's daughter's old bedroom, but it didn't say he _couldn't_ , either.

Sam sat up and finally pulled her arms from her borrowed shirt, letting it drop onto the bed. Once again, Goose was drawn to the fine hairs at her nape and how they were curled, compared to the rest of her straight hair, as she bent to remove her footwear. As he admired the jiggle in her walk as she headed to the bathroom, his wrist comm beeped.

Rolling his eyes, he sat up fully to tuck himself back in and fix his pants, and answered his teammate. "What's up, Doc?"

  
_"... You actually_ — _nevermind."_ The tiny projection of Walter shook his head, shoulders heaving in a deep sigh. _"Just thought I'd give an update on ol' ghosty here. Stubborn son-of-a-ship if I ever met one."_  


"What did you find out?"

  
_Some very interesting things_ — _that I'll tell you once you're back."_  


"That's very helpful."

  
_"Love you, too."_ His mustache twitched, and Goose's eyes narrowed, feeling the ghost sensation on his own lip. _"How's our young lady doing?"_  


"Much better, now." 

  
_"I'll bet."_ Walter's lips pressed into a line, the corner of his mouth still quirked in a not-quite smirk. _"I'll see you back at the ship."_  


"Roger." After closing the connection, Goose ran a hand down his face, the sinking feeling in his gut returning. Great. That was at _least_ another hour added onto the lecture that was sure to come. 

"Goose?" A ways down the hall, Sam poked her head out of the bathroom door, steam billowing out past her. "Could you pass me my uniform?"

He rose to give her just that—and then some, as Goose snatched her outstretched hand to tug her in for a few more kisses, and shouldered his way into the bathroom for just one more taste. He grinned when Sam finally shoved him out, laughing, and closed the door.

Right into the path of Mrs. Aberdeen, who stepped back and readjusted the large paper bag in her arms. "Well, bless my stars! Howdy, stranger!"

"Uh... howdy." Goose blinked at the small, wiry woman who looked him up and down with an appraising eye. Dressed in the standard flannel-denim-boots combo of the frontier, with weathered, tanned skin and dark, graying hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail, she looked every inch the farmer. She hooted, and he felt himself inexplicably blushing.

"Sure am glad to see lil' Sammy's got herself a friend! Margorie Aberdeen, at yer service." She maneuvered the bag to her hip and held out a hand.

He took it. "Shane Gooseman. A pleasure." She had a much stronger grip than Goose anticipated; definitely the hand of a woman who lived and breathed the frontier.

" _Indeed_! Come along, I'll grab you a coffee. Ain't everyday a sheriff comes 'round these parts."

"Galaxy ranger, actually," Goose gently corrected, following Margorie back into the kitchen, where she set down the bag and started up the coffee maker.

"Galaxy ranger?" Margorie walked up to Goose, standing on tiptoe to better squint at his badge, then leaning back with a soft 'huh'. "Fancy that. Never heard of 'em."

"Yeah, we get that a lot in this zone." As the older woman bustled around the kitchen, Goose mentally tuned back to the sound of the Sam's shower. "Sorry to barge in on your home, ma'am."

"Oh, don't you worry that pretty little face. Right glad am I to have company! S'been far too quiet since my little Camie ran off with that handsome scamp. Why, I'm gettin' a bit of that ol' dèjá vu, come to think of it."

"Is that right?" Smirking, Goose made himself comfortable against the wall, crossing his arms. "Mind if I ask a few questions?"

"Are you gonna _interrogate_ me, Mr. Officer?" She threw him a lidded gaze. Goose felt his cheeks heat again, to his bewilderment, and Margorie once more hooted with laughter. "Ask away!"

"How did you come to find Sam?"

"Oh, she weren't hard to find, what with how loud that crash was!" The coffee machine beeped, and Margorie set about pouring mugs, bringing one to Goose and settling back against the kitchen table afterwards. "It was quite the hubbub, scared the bajeezus out the Bovos. Me and the mister rode on out after an our or so and found her still stuck in that there ship. Seemed to be having some trouble with it afore she got out."

"What kind of trouble? Was the ship damaged or anything?"

Margorie shook her head, took a sip of her black coffee. "Not that I could see, weren't on fire or nothin'. Just wouldn't open. Pretty sure I saw her kicking around up there in the—cockpit?" She shrugged. "I'm not all that familiar with them things, but it was a mite strange."

"Yeah." Goose's brow creased, and his grip tightened on his mug. "How was she?"

"A bit rattled, and..." Weathered fingers tapped her mug, and she glanced to the side. "Wouldn't let us get that helmet off her. Wouldn't talk much either. We managed to get her saddled up and she all but collapsed once we got her back to the room. We checked up on her while she was out, and when I found her awake, she was out of the suit and wondering if we could spare some clothes."

Margorie paused to sip her coffee again, and chuckled down at the brew. "Still don't talk much, and she's far too serious for a gal her age. Sweet little thing, though, ain't she?"

Catching her glance, Goose felt his lip twitch into a half smile. "Sure is."

"An' she ain't the only one." Margorie winked. Goose swallowed hard, and the older woman cackled.

He cleared his throat. "A-anyway, what happened after that?"

"Nothin' much," Margorie quipped, swirling the dregs of her drink. "She was mostly out fussin' with that ship, and would come back and ask if she could help with anything. Girl knows her way around a ranch, that's for sure. Even got my washer to stop its rattling. But she mainly keeps to herself. Felt bad for the poor thing, so I figured I'd treat her to some new threads. Girl's got a lot more meat on her than my little Camie."

"I see." Pushing down the unease in his chest, Goose managed a smile for the woman. "Thank you, Mrs. Aberdeen."

"Tweren't nothin', young man. Anything to help in your little investigation. Now..." The older woman set down her mug, tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and threw her shoulders back as she leaned against the table. "If you need to frisk me or anything, _well_ , I'd be more'n happy to oblige."

"Uh..."

"That'll be all, Mrs. Aberdeen."

Sam emerged from the hallway, adjusting the gloves of her newly donned uniform. With her back set and her shoulders straight, she commanded the usual presence she did while clad in the white and blue. Authority and a determination to get the job done, and a seriousness beyond her age. Goose's features softened at seeing the ranger back to her usual self. Margorie's eyes widened, and she gave a low whistle as she took in the sight of Sam.

"Well, I'll be..."

"Mrs. Aberdeen." Sam closed the distance between them, and took the older woman's hands into her own, a warm smile lighting up her face. "Thank you for all that you've done. My name is Samantha Finch, and I'm a galaxy ranger."

 

***

 

Once they were well into hyperspace, Sam shifted in her seat, unstrapped herself and stood up. "I'm gonna head into the nav bay to prepare my report, if that's all right."

"Sure thing. We'll see you in a bit, Ranger Finch." A while after Sam left, Walter sighed loudly. "Shall we, my Goose man?"

The blonde ranger groaned, and leaned back in the main seat, waving a hand at his co-pilot. "You first."

" _Well._ " Walter, likewise, relaxed in his seat, pressing his fingertips together. "As I mentioned earlier, I was able to find out some _very_ interesting things."

"Such as?"

"A whole lot of nothing." 

"Doc..."

At the growl, Walter's hands flew up in a consoling gesture. "Wait, wait, wait! Before you go all hulk on me, that's _precisely_ what's interesting! I couldn't find out any concrete details. And it wasn't because of any firewalls or restrictions, although there w _as_ a nasty defense program in place. The A.I. adamantly refused to tell me anything; not its name, its purpose, nothing."

Goose raised a brow. "So it wasn't just stubborn, it was... paranoid?"

"Exactly. I didn't want to press the matter because the poor thing was so stressed, but it was all very peculiar. It seemed..." Walter grasped his chin, searched the flooring for his words. "Young, or perhaps new. Like it had no idea how to respond to ranger orders, so it just shut down. Overreacted. It's not what I would have expected out of a BETA program." His frown deepened. "They had no right putting anyone into that ship. It wasn't ready."

"Yeah," Goose huffed. "Sounds about right. Explains why the distress signal came so late—it was covering its tracks, being overly cautious."

"Right. Well...?" Walter drawled, and Goose found it hard not to hunch his shoulders. "How'd it go on your end?"

"Everything matches up. Looks like that A.I. wouldn't even let Sam out until well after she crashed, the opposite of what any other ship would have done. The paranoia also explains why the distress signal was so far from her last known coordinates—it jumped her through hyperspace. Probably burned off all its fuel, too." At some point, his hand clenched into a fist. He willed it to relax. "Sam's a better pilot than that, so it had to have taken over or something."

"Which shouldn't even be possible."

"Right. All in all, it's pretty messed up."

"And how is Ranger Finch?"

Goose's drumming fingers stopped at feeling the prickle from Walter's poignant stare. "She's fine, all things considered." He shrugged, eyes fixated on the red streaks of light flashing by. "The lady who took her in said she didn't talk much to her, either. Didn't even tell her that she was a ranger. Going by what we've gleaned from the A.I., and command's insistence on keeping this whole thing quiet, it sounds like Sam wasn't in any position to talk."

"Makes sense. And...? I know that's not everything." Goose almost flinched. "You ready to talk to me without all the growling and hissing?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, but that wasn't going to stop Walter from mentally drilling a hole into the side of his head, so he idly checked the drives. "I thought you were above gossip."

"As a gentleman, yes. However, as your dear and concerned _friend_ , I would like to know why you were so distressed and ready to rip the galaxy a new one over one young lady. It's not like she's the only one to be on the receiving end of the Goose's—shall we say— _attentions_."

"We've flown in squadrons before, you know that. It's not right to just leave a ranger for dead, especially for the sake of covering up some project."

"Gooseman." The older ranger swiveled his chair so he could keep his gaze leveled on Goose, leaned forward a bit to rest his elbows on his knees. "I get it; this mission is ten kinds of shady. We were sent to clean up some top secret mess and it blows. However..." And Walter's tone became so gentle that Goose had to close his eyes, clench his jaw. "That doesn't explain why this became so personal to you. Why you seem so... attached. If there's something going on, you can tell me."

If he had an answer, he couldn't find it. Goose looked for one, really, and found it firmly shut behind walls that he refused to venture past. After a while, the young ranger listened to the faint _whirr_ of Walter's chair rotating to face the console again, filling the silence before his next words. "To be honest, I thought you were done with fraternizing, after—"

"After what? You turned me down?"

"Goose..."

"That wasn't a big deal, and neither is this." The words tumbled out as a snarl. Goose paused, took a breath, checked the remaining time for their warp. Two minutes. "Things got kinda heated after the black hole incident, and we catch up every now and then. That's it."

"'That's it'?" Walter snorted. "Goose, you looked ready to bodyslam Commander Walsh, and don't think I missed the fireworks going on after we touched down. Or how you were _considerably_ more chill once you two got back. And you're trying to brush this off like some average  _booty call_?"

"I don't know what you're—what?" And just like that, Goose's rising anger dissipated, and he became the very picture of bewilderment as he stared at Walter. "A what? 'Booty call'? What the hell, Doc? What happened to you being a gentleman?"

"It's an old term for—wait, no, nevermind. You're derailing me!" The older man jabbed a finger at him, and Goose wanted to bite it off.

"You're being disrespectful!"

"Says the guy who was two seconds away from ravishing little Miss Finch in front of his dear teammate!"

"I was not!"

"And I'm hurt— _hurt!—_ that you wouldn't consult your concerned and handsome friend for any solely needed dating advice!"

"Because we're not dating."

"Oh, oh, there it is. The trademark supertrooper anger and Gooseman indifference as you _desperately_ try to hide your true feelings—"

"You're being dramatic, and we're warping out, so knock it off," Goose snapped with not all that much venom, as _Ranger One_ re-entered normal space. "ETA seven minutes for BETA mountain. Now." Once more, Goose leaned back, crossed his arms and tossed Walter a grin. "If you're _that_ interested, then I can tell you about how—"

"No, _no._ " Walter waved his hands and pointed both at Goose, as if he could shoot away the supertrooper's illicit intent. "You can spare me the sordid details. I just..." Words failing him, Walter's hands dropped, and Goose averted his eyes. At length, the older ranger sighed. "'Not a big deal', huh. I'll trust you. But you know you'd never get away with that kind of display in front of the captain, right?"

"Zachary doesn't have to know, now does he?" Dropping the matter, Goose's finger hit a button, bringing up an empty view of the navigation bay. "Yo, Finch, you can send a message to command whenever you're ready."

It took a moment, but soon Samantha came into frame, rubbing at her eyes. "Ah, yeah. Thanks."

"No problem." His brow creased, but he turned the display off before he thought about it too much. Feeling that prickle again, Goose glanced aside to see Walter giving him a skeptical glare. "What?"

The other man just shook his head, and gave his attention to the view of Earth growing larger as they approached. "It's nothing, my Goose man. Nothing at all."

Only it didn't appear to be nothing, as Walter seemed to be feeling some kind of way all through the landing, all the way up until they had all disembarked and were saying their farewells to Samantha.

Walter took her hand, grasping it in both of his own. "I sure hope you get a little break before they expect you to report, Ranger Finch."

"Mmm." Sam's gaze returned to the bag in her hands, the one Margorie had given her. Her hair swayed gently as she shook her head. "I'm headed to the lab first, to get another check up. Then..." Her eyes lifted as her voice trailed off, settling on Goose, then Walter, and finally off to the side.

She watched as the deck crew unloaded her Interceptor from _Ranger One_ , and her grip tightened on the bag's handle. "Thank you, again, for picking me up."

"All in a day's work. We rangers gotta look out for one another, right, Gooseman?"

"Yeah." Goose offered up a smile for Sam, which she hesitantly returned once she looked at him again. It wasn't a real smile, though, and he started thinking of what to do the next time he ran into her. To see more of the real Samantha, and have a little fun while he was at it. "Let us know if that ship gives you any trouble. I can always give you a tune-up."

"I'll keep that in mind." A bit of that playful light came back to her, but her smile was still tight-lipped as she nodded and left for the lab.

Goose kept his gaze on her retreating figure until he couldn't ignore the hole Walter was staring through him. He sighed gruffly. "What now?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about you could use some more lessons on the fine art of subtlety." But Walter chuckled, and clapped the supertrooper on the back. "What now? I'm thinking of getting an early start, because this is going to be one wild report."

"Why would it be? This mission wasn't all that eventful." He shrugged, even as his jaw clenched. Everything was back in its rightful place, so what more could he want? "Just standard procedure."

"Whatever you say, Goose man."


End file.
